In the Grip of Your Enemy's Soul
by BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer
Summary: TRHP drabble. Horcrux Hunting. Plotbunny born of the phrase foot on peeling wallpaper. Esmehxehness ensues.
1. The Locket

By BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this! Just the plotbunny that KaylaisEvenstar challenged me with... Plotbunny Magnet, remember?

AN: Drabbley drabbled drabble.

**In the Grip of Your Enemy's Soul**

_Start!_

Harry and Hermione rolled his eyes as Ron crept down the hallway, twitching at every squeak of the floorboards. As they passed by an open door, Harry caught a glint of metal. It called to him. What was that?

_'Harry...'_

He was in the room, reaching for the shining beacon. Warm, smooth metal slid under his fingertips. Light flashed. Hot hands caressed his back as his face was pressed into warm silk. Everything was spinning backwards, then his back hit the wall and he knew that he had been moving backwards, but things were still spinning. Hot lips pressed onto his, hands now running down his chest. When had his shirt been undone? His fingers scratched against the wall, scraping at peeling wallpaper as his lungs quickly ran out of oxygen.

Just when he thought he would pass out, his lips were released as his attacker moved down to latch onto his neck. Gasping, he vaguely noticed glinting red eyes before he was deprived of thought by the slightly larger body pressing into him. Large, filling, hot pressure forced in the most pleasing way. Mouth dropping open to gasp at the air.

He couldn't get enough. Never enough of this.

His feet were braced against the peeling wallpaper as his arms moved to sling around the other man's neck, urging him to continue this most pleasurable assault. If he didn't live past these moments, he could die a happy man.

Pushing, pulling, the slapping of skin so wonderful and he was crying out - the pleasure too great - warmth rushing all over him. Nothing more than this. This was all he ever wanted.

_SMACK!_

Shaking, hands slapping his face, voices calling his name. Insistent, bothersome.

"What?" He managed to groan, cracking open one eye to see a very worried Hermione and Ron.

"Harry! What happened? We were so worried!"

"You were there, right next to us, and then you were just gone, mate!"

"Stop it... too loud..." Groaning, he tried to turn away. His hand met cold metal. "What?"

"Harry, we found the locket horcrux. Apparently, R.A.B. didn't get the chance to destroy it. You scared us because we found you spasming on the floor. Are you alright? Should we stop by St. Mungo's?" Both of them were white as a sheet, but Harry couldn't seem to care. He couldn't care. They had stopped him.

Pushing up, hand wrapped tightly around still cold locket, Harry shook his head. He stumbled, but refused their touch.

" 'M fine, 'Mione. Let's get back to camp, so we can get some rest." Reluctantly, they agreed.

_shift_

Shining golden, delicately carved snake on the locket, it was beautiful. There was a picture in the locket of Tom Riddle, Sr. He looked so much like his son. His son who had split his soul into seven pieces and locked them away. One of them had just molested him.

And he had liked it.


	2. The Cup

By BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer

Disclaimer: My initials are not J.K.R., so - no - I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: When I finished 'The Locket', I realized that it would be ever so easy to continue it... in drabbles.

Also, someone asked why there was a picture of Tom Riddle, Sr. in the locket if it was Slytherin's. Pictures in lockets can be replaced and Merope wanted to have a picture of her husband. Simple as that. Whether there is a picture of someone important to Salazar underneath the picture of Tom, _that _is a different story. #shrugs#

**In the Grip of Your Enemy's Soul** - _The Cup_

_Start!_

"I'm fine, really. Perfectly fine. Wonderfully fine." They didn't believe him. He didn't believe himself.

How could he be fine? He was a horcrux magnet. That morning he had woken up to find the locket 'round his neck and the Gaunt ring on his left ring finger - his wedding finger. That didn't worry him. The fact that they were both whole and undisturbed worried him, but he couldn't feel any magic resonating through them, so he didn't panic. No need to - yet.

Now he was trying to coax them into going to the orphanage to poke around for the next horcrux, but they were both rather stubborn about him resting. Growling, he unconsciously rubbed the band of the Gaunt ring with his thumb. He needed to get the next one. No time to be wasted.

"Every moment we dawdle is a moment another person could die at the hand of a Death Eater or Voldemort - " Ron paled. " - himself or even worse, Snape and Malfoy have probably already reported what we're hunting for, so this lost time may be giving them time to plot and put into action traps or moving the horcruxes to someplace we'd never even think to look." There was a method to his madness. He was just lucky that he'd had the presence of mind to cast a subtle notice-me-not charm on the horcruxes before they had bust in because when he attempted to remove them, they wouldn't budge.

Finally, they agreed.

_shift_

The orphanage was in horrible disrepair, but Harry had slipped in before Hermione or Ron could try to stall him any longer. The first place he checked was Tom Riddle's old bedroom. It was identical to the pensieve memory of it, including a young Tom Riddle lying on his bed.

"He was afraid of me, you know. He feared me just like everyone else did, but instead of treading lightly like others did he tromped right in and bullied me." Tom looked up, sorrowful eyes staring imploringly into Harry's own. "I had reasons for everything I did, but he didn't know or didn't care, so set that I was some sort of violent and horrible person. Yes, I had Billy Stubb's rabbit hang itself, but only because he had crushed the head of Vita and then tied her by her neck in a tree." Sniffling, he wiped quickly at his suspiciously wet eyes. "Then the stupid lug swore that she had hung herself! Of course, Mrs. Cole believed him over me, but I avenged Vita.

"The others here had a game they played before I learned to control my magic. Do you want to know what it was called?" He had somehow moved from the doorway to stand in front of Tom without really meaning to.

"What was it?" Harry found himself asking,

"Tom Tormenting. They thought themselves so clever, coming up with that name. Magic put a stop to it, not authorities that were responsible for my health, but magic that I used to give them a taste of what they had been doing to me. They were the ones living in fear, losing their precious possessions. That was me no longer, but then Dumbledore came and took me to the most wonderful place in the world, Hogwarts." Smiling widely, Tom stood up on his bed so that he was eye-to-eye with Harry. "Even if Dumbledore was afraid and wary of me, I had found my place." Leaning forward, hands on Harry's shoulders, Tom kissed him chastely. This was not the brutal, devouring kisses of the locket's bit of soul, but it left him feeling light-headed none-the-less.

_shift_

Opening his eyes, he found himself laying on Tom's dusty bed, clutching the cold, gleaming metal of Hufflepuff's cup. He stood slowly, glancing about the room. It appeared as the rest of the building, dusty and falling apart.

Glancing one more time back at the bed, he ran out of the room, trying to ignore the smaller footprints in the dust around the bed.

_**TBC...**_

AN: #waves a white flag from hiding place# At least I didn't go and die or something! I'm still alive, just having difficulties putting what I want to happen into words. That, and I'm rping as Orochimaru from Naruto on Myspace and Chatzy. It's addicting, I tell you!


	3. Dreams and Plans for the Future

By BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer

Disclaimer: My initials are not J.K.R., so - no - I don't own Harry Potter NOR am I Edgar Allen Poe. As much as I wish I were making money off of this, I'm not. Money would be nice, but - sadly - I don't get any. #sniffle#

_AN: Yeeah, those who recognize the Poe influence, good for you! I'm getting creative with this, but still - it's going to be interesting. A large part of the importance lies in the number 7, if you hadn't noticed. Now you do, right? XD_

**In the Grip of Your Enemy's Soul** - _Dreams and Plans for the Future_

_Start!_

Hermione was starting to become suspicious. Understandably, but that didn't stop it from being a very bad thing for him. Twice he had separated from them and returned with a horcrux. Whether it was already devoid of all magical tampering or not, it was still suspicious. Luckily, they didn't know about each of the horcruxes clinging to him. Oh, yes, the cup had appeared as a charm on the bracelet he woke up with on his right wrist.

The most disturbing things, though, were the dreams. The first one started with waking up in a completely blue room- bright blue. Not only was the room blue, but everything in it was blue, too. The carpet was blue, the chairs were blue, the panes of glass in the high, Gothic windows even were blue. Looking through those windows showed only blue-tinted blue and the sun rising in the east.

He couldn't pass into the next room, which was pretty in purple, but he knew that the next day he would wake up in that room and he would be unable to step into the blue room nor the green room beyond. Each day he woke up in the next room and at the end of the week when he had passed through all seven rooms (blue, purple, green, orange, white, violet, black respectively) he would start the whole process again. Though each room was open to those adjacent, if Harry stood in the middle of the room, he could not see but a part of those rooms.

With each passing day, he would notice and remember little things about the rooms during the day when he was trying to focus on researching the horcruxes. Things like in the black room at the very end, the window panes were red, not black and matching with the rest of the room and the fact that the sun moved through the sky as he moved through each room. The fact that every time he was in the blue room, the sun was rising and every time he was in the orange room it was at high noon, then when he had progressed into the final room, the sun was setting.

It was always like this and while creepy, it wasn't something he was willing to mention to Hermione - at least not yet.

Then, after several weeks of this, he finally managed to convince Hermione that they should check out Godric's Hollow. They all understood the risks and knew that Voldemort knew that they - that Harry would fight tooth and nail to visit where he and his parents had once shortly lived in happiness. Knowing that there would undoubtedly be Death Eaters and maybe even the Dark Lord himself, Harry still knew that going to Godric's Hollow and meeting the Darkness there was... inevitable.

But even as they were going over plans, maps, and escape routes, Harry could not stop thinking about finally seeing where he could have -should have grown up. The plan came down to them apparating in outside of the village, then Ron and Hermione following Harry under the Invisibility Cloak. Any Death Eaters would think that Harry had snuck away because Hermione wouldn't let him and thus they'd be more likely to attack without informing the Dark Lord, thinking they'd be able to take down a lone teenager by surprise.

They had planned for several long hours, so Hermione decided that they'd take a nap, then head off in the evening. For a few minutes after he had lay down to sleep, Harry thought he might not be able to get any rest. Then the darkness enveloped him and when he opened his eyes once more, he was staring at a very darkly fashioned room lit by the bloody light seeping through the Gothic style windows that were so familiar now. The Death Room as he had started calling it seemed different. He could feel a presence besides his own within its confines.

Very slowly and carefully he stood, eyes raking over everything within the room carefully to try and find where the feeling was coming from. He looked and looked again, but he couldn't find who or what that was making his scar prickle and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It couldn't be Voldemort, could it? But who else made his scar prickle and throb like that? Whoever it was didn't seem to notice him, but they were undoubtedly there, shrouded. Cautiously, he took a few steps toward the windows, hoping that he'd be able to find the source of the nagging presence.

Almost immediately a tall shadow detached itself from right next to the window and _stared _at him. The very fact that something was truly there and before him meant nothing compared to the cat-eyed, crimson stare he was receiving - a very familiar stare, indeed. Now that the figure had stepped into the light, Harry could see the other's pale features and lipless mouth. It was a blank stare, as if Voldemort couldn't comprehend that his downfall was standing right there before him.

"How did you come to be here, boy?" His high-pitched voice was as annoying as usual, but the usual malice was lacking. The demi-human seemed almost... sane. Debating whether lying or revealing his previous dreams was out of the question, so he settled for the simplest, truthful answer.

"I don't know... sir," he surprisingly found himself saying. The older man gave him an odd look before turning and striding towards the violet room.

"Well, since you're here you might as well follow me," Voldemort called out to the stunned teen, still headed determinedly onwards. Stumbling the first few steps, Harry followed, caught completely by surprise when he was allowed to pass from the Death Room into the violet room. He had paused, mouth slightly open, as he stood on the threshold of the rooms. "Don't fall behind, boy." The calm command from his greatest enemy snapped him out of his surprise. That was more surprising than being able to pass through the rooms at will. He quickly moved to catch up, but when he was not two feet from the taller man, the other whipped around to look at him again.

"Wha - " he managed to get out before the distance between them was suddenly decimated and he had to look nearly straight up to meet that bloody stare. Pale, spidery fingers traced Harry's cheek, Voldemort's mask-like face blank yet his eyes gave away his curiosity. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not sure," the older man murmured as he leaned further down, closer and closer to Harry. "What is it that draws us together?" The next moment their mouths met. His kiss was cold and Harry could feel his fingers like steel bands around his arms, pulling him against the demi-human's bony body. It was like kissing Death.

The feel of a whispy _something _snaking into his mouth to brush teasingly across his tongue and teeth made him shudder even as he was pressed closer. It was almost as if Voldemort was sucking his soul out by his mouth - or at least trying his damned hardest to. While he fell to Voldemort's skill, he could not believe that something so cold could feel so welcoming.

Shaking, yelling, he woke up drenched.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione and Ron were looming over his bed, paler than he'd seen them in quite a while. Slowly he sat up, brushing off his friends' efforts to keep him laying down.

"I'm so glad you're awake, mate! Your lips were turning blue." Both finally gave up and just helped him sit up comfortably by putting an extra pillow behind him. Shaking his arms, he looked down to try and figure out why they felt as if they had fallen asleep. Black bruises marked his skin as if someone had gripped his arms as if their life depended on it. No doubt that in a few days' time he would be able to tell where each of the fingers had rested.

"Maybe we shouldn't go - " Hermione started to suggest, but Harry wouldn't hear any of it.

"We're going. Just let me have some air for a bit." Closing his eyes, he focused on the 'dream' he had just had, absently noticing that his friends had reluctantly left. He relaxed into the pillows, breathing deeply as the dream replayed behind his closed eyelids.

Just great - and he had to be on high alert when they went to Godric's Hollow in half an hour.


End file.
